Heads of Houses
by NickeltheRed
Summary: Hermione avoided taking the next level of flying class. Draco never considered Muggle Studies. Now, as Head Girl and Boy, the requirements must be filled. Hermione's a Muggle, and Draco's in Quidditch.  McGonagall does the math for them. Re-uploaded!
1. Of Blood and Ranks

**I do not own the original HP story, and so on. Read and review!**

**This is one of those stories where HBP and DH never really happened.**

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><p>Without hesitation, Hermione leaned forward in the chair that her professor had conjured shortly after they arrived. "Professor, if this is about the ink incident that happened between us yesterday,<em> I<em> was _not_ the one who started it."

Minerva eyed her leading pupil inquiringly, "What ink incident, Miss Granger?"

Malfoy, who lounged in the seat beside Hermione's, responded quickly by tapping the side of his shoe against Hermione's ankle warningly. Although, all he received in return was her most aggravated glower, even when Hermione knew she had just made a miscalculation.

He crossed his arms in the manner of a spoiled, sulking child then. Personally on his part, Draco really,_ really_, was not in the mood to enlighten on the details of the disastrous events from the previous evening. Especially not to the Gryffindor Head, who everyone knows is to be highly strict and apt. He actually, wouldn't even know _how_ to explain as to why a few strands of his hair in the back, and as to why Granger's skirt were now stained with black. And_ he_ was not at fault like Granger had tried to imply—

If Granger hadn't placed her ink bottle on the very edge of the library desk she'd been sitting at, then perhaps his elbow could have avoided colliding with it while passing by. Perhaps then, her nearly-completed five page Charms essay would have been unspoiled. And if he recalled correctly, _she_ _was_ the one who drove the honestly unintended deed out of proportion by not controlling her temper, clutching his robes, and shaking him like a mad woman. Their following wrestling match resulted in the rest her ink splattering upon them, the floor, and surrounding bookshelves as well. All in all, the both of them were soon requested to leave immediately by a dismayed Madam Pince. (Draco was just thankful he managed to slip out before any mentioning of detention had sprung up.)

After shifting her fluid gaze from one School Head to the other, McGonagall moved ahead with the conversation, "I merely called you two here on regards to your Head requirements."

"Oh," Hermione said shortly, in what sounded like great relief. "But as the Heads we already read the requirements in the letter that you had sent to us over this past summer... Or _I_ did, at least."

_Oh my Sly Slytherin_, Draco cussed to himself, rolling his eyes dramatically. But then, he nodded promisingly, indicating that he had read it too.

"Yes, I am sure you both have done so. And to maintain your Head titles, you two must maintain an upper reputation in this schooling system." McGonagall clarified. "Receive decent, if not the best scores in all your courses. Remember having the Head Boy or Girl position is a privilege and an honor. It's not a regulated right. And I have the duty to make certain you fill all the remaining spaces in your academic performances, in order to for you graduate."

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. "Remaining spaces? We _have_ taken everything to take the O.W.L.S and the N.E.W.T.S. _What_ requirements do we really have to take care of yet, Professor?"

The elderly witch continued with steady patience, "Miss Granger, you are doing exceedingly well in all of your courses this year thus far, just as what's expected of you. However, your records show that you have only taken the first level of Flying Practice, and it seems as if you have neglected to register for the last portion to count for full credit. This may be a school of magic, but physical exercise classes to preserve good health are no less important in this world. Good health also means successful magic."

Hermione couldn't help but to let her face fall, suddenly feeling crestfallen and partly sheepish. And in contrast, a smirk covertly curled upon Malfoy's lips at the thought of_ the_ _Hermione Granger_ would in fact, dodge taking any class in school whatsoever. All the peer-to-peer gossip always claimed that she usually thrived to bear more classes then the average student their age instead.

Though Draco didn't have that long to bask in the comical irony, for McGonagall directed her consideration at him next. "Moreover _you_, Mr. Malfoy, also haven't taken any courses involving the studies on modern or historical Muggle life."

The youngest Malfoy could already feel a great mass of dread crawling up behind him, preparing itself to devour him whole.

Upon hearing this, it was time for Hermione's spirits to be lifted. She had to bit her bottom lip to prevent herself from releasing any sort of mocking comment related to, _"Ha!"_

"Logically speaking, as Miss Granger was born within the Muggle world—no prejudice quip intended, of course—and since Mr. Malfoy is on the Slytherin's Quidditch team, I thought you could aid and tutor each other; just while you two complete these last requirements. It was not that critical during your earlier terms, but when it comes to graduating, it is more so now."

"But Professor," Malfoy said, and he was obviously upset, "our education revolves around magic. My future career revolves around magic. In all respect, I honestly don't see Muggle Studies are necessary at all.

"Mr. Malfoy, please, I'm not a fool." McGonagall relied, folding her hands. "I'm quite aware of your circumstance. You are the so-called heir of the Malfoy line, and you were raised to remain on top of the ranks. Your name must stand out amongst others..."

Hermione blinked, mildly taken aback by her teacher's consideration for his case. Draco however, stared at her profoundly, out of a mixture of humanistic curiosity and guarded surprise. It was a look that was alien for Hermione to see on his face.

"When your father and mother were in school, Mister Malfoy, it wasn't as vital since Muggle Studies was still in process of becoming an actual course. But nowadays, with the growing number of Muggleborn witches and wizards being accepted at the schools, our interaction and understanding with them had to also increase. Things have changed, and families such as your own are yet caught in Old World ways. If you want to become legendary, Mister Malfoy, my advice is to take a chance to know both worlds the best to your ability. Be wise about all you can. Between us, as the heir, I'd say that you have that right to create new traditions for the generations following in _your_ footsteps."

It was a _dare_. Draco knew what a challenge sounded like. Slytherins threw and partook in personal challenges here and there, like wild fire. It was typical for them to do so.

The hag didn't come right out and declare it, but by the way her aged, cunning eyes sparkled, he knew he was meant to see it was definitely implied.

And it was meant for the both of them (for their own reasons) to step up to and face it.

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><p><strong>Thanks for your time!<strong>


	2. Downhearted

Draco couldn't bring himself to inform his fellow Slytherins of why he was leaving or coming into the Common Room at odd hours.

"_Head Boy things," _he would say when they asked. It made him nauseated. Not to lie of course, but to actually know the truth.

And what of his father? Well, one thing was for certain—Draco was going to do everything in his power to deny this type of news to reach the ears of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy of all people. He was just going to see the end of this, in his own terms, and on the down low.

Those who were in the same Muggle Studies class with Draco however, were all younger than he, and were terrified of the renowned Malfoy name. Not to mention, they were also careful to not anger him, being the Head Boy and all. None of them ever talked to him, nor did they sit anywhere near him. They gladly allowed him to have the back corner to himself so he could seethe and brood alone through the daily lectures.

Not even Crabbe and Goyle had once headed in his direction nowadays, noticing how horrifying their leader's mood had turned less cocky and prideful to downright foul.

Pansy Parkinson was the only one left who would approach him, to attempt to relax him, to cling to him, to try to make him open up, to flirt with him. But lately, Draco would simply narrow his silver-filled eyes, and then coldly and wordlessly, he shoved her away.

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><p>Hermione considered the possibility off just asking the boys for help... But they've seen her on broomstick, and Harry and Ron had vowed to never invite her to participate in a leisure match over any free period or holiday. (For their sakes, just as much as hers.)<p>

Another thing Hermione had imagined, was their demeaning reactions to her current position. If she were to tell them she had purposely avoided a basic mandatory course, they'd probably joke with her continually, and Ron would announce to it to the whole Common Room. She'd be the largest laughingstock in Gryffindor House.

Oh, but how totally hopeless Hermione was when in the air, clinging to the wooden handle for dear life. All her turns and loops were fairly timid and unstable. Madam Hooch kept a special eye on her during flying hour, which didn't cause Hermione to feel _special_ in the least.

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><p><strong>Poor things, haha. They're becoming in a tight bind.<strong>


	3. The Electric Things

Two awfully long weeks had gone. Hermione and Draco couldn't believe that they could really resent one another more than before.

When Harry would lead her and Ron around as usual, and they'd just happen to collide with Malfoy's group, the two Heads were so tense that no insults could even be hurled out. Hermione left that up to the boys, while she would stroll on ahead. Draco in comparison, unconditionally refused to look her way at all.

The School Heads both tried to simply overlook the entire two-way tutoring arrangement. But of course, their progress was still right under McGonagall's nose. It was obvious either of them had received any sort of assistance thus far. The evidence was right there, in their poor scores. They couldn't run from it too much longer.

And so, McGonagall pulled them aside after class one afternoon—this time not to suggest them serving the other, but to _demand_ them to do so. Hence, now they had no choice.

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><p>Hermione wasn't about to praise Draco, when he suggested they could do just "this thing" after hours, away from their peers. They had the space, after all.<p>

He sensed she was still pleased to have the privacy nonetheless, to be hidden from the crowds that could easily tease the both of them for years to come about their sticky situation. Thank the gods and goddesses for the Head Dormitories.

"Alright, Malfoy, definition:_ the electrical device, or system used for the transmission of sound and speech to a distant point from another?"_

Draco glared at her from his spot at their table. He could care less about this.

"A cyberphone."

"No." Hermione sighed. "Telephone, Malfoy. _Tele-_phone."

"Fine. Give me another."

"Definition: _This_ is also called a processor. An electronic device designed to receive data, perform arranged mathematical and logical operations at high speed, and display the results of these operations."

"Kumpotmaker."

"Computer!"

His month's exam was in merely two days from then. Based on her pitiful expression, Draco was amazed to find that she had been thinking the exact thing he was. He groaned, dropping his head in the fold of his arm.

He was most likely, and most positively ruined.


	4. The Flying Stuff

"The referee can enforce penalties if a foul occurs during a match. A single Chaser from the fouled team takes a penalty shot by flying from the central circle towards the scoring area. The opposite team's Keeper may attempt to— _what_—this shot, but no other player should interfere.

"Block." Hermione mumbled. "Contact is allowed, but a player may not grasp another's broomstick or any part of his or her body. A player shall not assault another by their wand, hands, or the broom itself— _I know_, Malfoy, I know how to read!"

"Look, fuzz-ball, I'm trying to help you to get Granny Witch off our case," he shot back, trashing his hands down by his sides. The scroll his hold creased, and wrinkled loudly with the motion. "The sooner we're done here, the sooner we can put this behind us!"

"That's not the problem though, Malfoy. I _comprehend_ the rules and _know of_ the techniques...It's flying _itself_ that I cannot do well. That is what's bringing my grade down."

With that, Hermione was inwardly surprised at the expression that crossed Draco's features moments later. He looked fairly defeated, and her last words hadn't even been that insulting. His free hand rose to caress the back of his neck. "Get the broom."

What he intended her to do was to go grab the broom that was leaning again the bench a little ways away. She had brought an extra from the communal broom closet it to practice with in case, but she had no objective of really touching it in the end.

Hermione was doomed. She now stood in the exact spot Malfoy had been two days before, the day of his exam. Karma was a heartless force indeed.

She wasn't certain if she bought it or not. "What? You're serious?"

Even the ferret didn't look that sure of himself. "Just do it, alright?"

Hermione turned her head timidly towards the sleeping Cleansweep Six, and then back around to him.

"Well? Do you or do you not want to pass, Granger?"

Once Hermione returned with the broomstick in hand, he told her to start off with the very basics. And Hermione just bit her tongue and gingerly laid the broom upon the ground parallel to her profile.

"I took this assessment, and passed it easily." he commented. "Madam Hooch will expect your class to memorize every single step. So now, call it to your hand first."

Hermione recalled attempting this during first year. She despised the exercise back then too. For Harry, it took only the first call for his practice broom to shoot up into his palm. Even Malfoy had managed to call his broom to his hand on the first try. And for Hermione…well, she one of the last students to compel the broom upwards.

But, Hermione herded those negative thoughts to the very far corner of her mind, and just tried to do what she knew how to do the best—she focused on the matter at hand, and she concentrated.

"Up!"

The Cleansweep Six stirred and rolled over, but did not rise completely. Hermione grew warm in the face. Her cheeks colored immediately with horror and self-disgrace. She kept her gaze upon the ground, not wanting to see the glee radiating off Malfoy's form. Of all people to witness her failures, it had been him.

"Again." Draco ordered. And his tone was anything but jesting or giddy.

"Up!"

The same outcome ensued.

"Again, Granger. Stop stalling, the broom can sense you are. This time _mean_ _it_."

She did.

"_Up!"_

Finally, the Cleansweep Six felt the thorough pull, and obeyed. It rose swiftly and made a light clapping sound as it hit the witch's open determined hand. Hermione instinctively smiled a little out of relief. She looked to Malfoy again.

He cleared his throat, but for whatever reason his voice sounded hoarse and cracked now. "Now, get into mounting stance."

Hermione conformed. And he retracted a step back, raising his hands up in a yielding manner, as if he was an older brother who was trying to prevent his younger sibling from crying in order to stay out of trouble.

"Alright, Granger, now…_slowly_…hover." He probably started to indicate _just how_ edgy she was when it came to flying altogether, and that didn't make him feel any more confidence on his part either.

Hermione drew in a breath and carefully allowed her feet to lift from the grass, now relying on the broom to support her weight alone—the first five seconds were good and steady, but then—

Unexpectedly, the broom with Hermione on it, lunged straight up into the sky, like a rocket, and it happened so fast, that neither of them had to time to process the mishap, let alone had the time to mend it. Hermione's deafening screech filled the surrounding air, while Draco had fallen back on the spot by the surprise, landing with a loud grunt.

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><p><strong>To be continued...<strong>


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